


Matryoshka

by kaleidoscope_dream



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Alternate History, Captivity, Exorcist War, Gen, Prisoner of War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2292971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidoscope_dream/pseuds/kaleidoscope_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the war between exorcists, the Natsume clan fell at the hands of Matoba. Only one survived - as a prisoner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Blossoms Begin to Fall

Beneath the sakura, there were corpses.

Never before had such a small boy seen so much blood. It was everywhere; splashed against trees, pooling around unmoving bodies as the grass became stained. Unbidden tears fell from his eyes, running down his cheeks and wriggling into the small cuts on his face, but he didn’t make a noise. He was too afraid to do anything else but stare. If he screamed, something bad would happen. If he wailed and brought attention to himself, someone would come to finish him off, just like everyone else.

The wind stirred the trees as it passed through, leaves fluttering to land on the unmoving figures beneath the cherry blossoms. If it wasn’t for the stench of copper in the air, the stillness of their chests and the sight of all that red, he could have pretended they were sleeping. He would have run to them, laughing a nervous laugh, shook them until they woke back up, but he knew they wouldn’t. Somewhere, deep down, he knew he had lost everything dear to him. His family, his friends, everything worth protecting. All gone.

In his tiny hands, he gripped the paper that had called him out to this place. _Mama and Papa are waiting for you, Takashi. Meet us at the usual spot. We’ll have a picnic, won’t that be fun? You like those so much._ It wasn’t a coincidence. Did that mean …? Before he could process the though, he heard a growl somewhere in the distance and realized too late this was a trap. He had walked happily straight toward his death.

Takashi ran, dropping the note as he went. If he was going to die, he wouldn’t die here. He wouldn’t die like they wanted! The wind picked up again and he followed it deep into the forest, behind the line of cherry trees that stood proud and tall at the entrance of his home. If he could make it through the forest, if he could reach that one place – he stumbled over a root, but he steadied himself and faced forward with determination. There was still something he had to do. His grandmother’s last wish.

_"Hey, brat.”_

_Takashi pouted slightly because he was not a “brat”. “What is it, baa-chan?” He received a whack to the top of his head, which he cradled with a whimper. “What was that for!”_

_“I thought I told you to call me Onee-sama!”_

_The twelve-year-old gave her a flat look. “You’re too old to be one of those.” Another whack and Takashi grudging said, “Sorry, Onee-sama. Could you tell me why you called for me now?” It was rare for Natsume Reiko, the head of the Natsume clan, to call anyone to her side. She pushed people away, further than anyone else, but Takashi knew she had a soft spot for her daughter. Perhaps not her grandson, though, or she would have held back with her fist of fury._

_Reiko’s beguilingly young face gave nothing away. “Do you know what a war is, Takashi?”_

_Immediately, he sat straighter and curled his hands into fists where they rested against his thighs. “I … yes, I do.”_

_She studied him a moment longer before holding something out to him. “Hide this, and when you really need it, remember who gave it to you. Remember, Takashi. And use it well. You only get one chance. Don’t waste it.”_

That had been a week ago, but it felt like years. Where was she now? Was she somewhere in the compound, alive and hiding? Or was she …? Takashi didn’t want to think of it.

When the trees began to thin and houses came into view, he sped up, disliking how exposed he was out in the open. Something was chasing him and he didn’t want to be caught. Not until –

_"Why would I need something like this?” Takashi asked, confused, as held the paper charm with both hands. “A dagger or a knife would have been more helpful than this, baa-chan.” He managed to dodge the next whack to the head, but he didn’t see her other fist until it was too late._

_"Don’t talk back, brat. Just listen.” Reiko shifted out of the harsh seiza position she always addressed her clan in and sat cross-legged instead, making herself comfortable. She didn’t say anything about Takashi being allowed to do the same, so he maintained the expected posture without a word. Doing as he was taught, since he was a good child in spite of what his grandmother said. (Calling his grandmother Onee-sama certainly didn’t count.)_

_Picking up a pipe from somewhere to her left, Reiko pressed it to her lips and inhaled. Colorful smoke billowed around her lips as she slowly let it escape. Reiko was thoroughly taking her time with explaining what she meant. Takashi tried hard not to fidget. He was a young boy, no matter how proper he was meant to be – he could only pretend for so long._

_"A charm can be a lot of things, Takashi.” The boy visibly brightened as she started to explain, eager to find out what was special about this mysterious gift. “Your imagination is the only restraint you need. You go as far as you want to go. But remember this as well: the further you go, the harder things become. Give yourself a push and you can accomplish anything. So, Takashi, answer me this: if you had the power to do anything, what would you do with it?”_

_Cocking his head to the side, Takashi brought his eyebrows together in confusion. “The power to do anything? Like Kami-sama?”_

_Reiko covered her mouth as she laughed, tears glistening in her eyes from pure amusement. “Yeah, right. Like I would give that kind of power to a brat like you, even if I could!”_

_"Then, what? What power am I supposed to use?”_

_"You tell me. Or better yet, show me what Natsume Takashi can do when he has nothing left to lose.” Her smirk was a bit ominous, but Takashi left after the dismissal without putting up a fight. He would figure it out for himself._

It was now. Now was the time for him to show his grandmother what he could do. But first he had to make it to the small shrine in the center of the village. He had hidden the charm there, behind a lucky cat statue, and he wasn’t going to give up on anything until he made it there. His vision was still clouded with the tears threatening to fall, but he ran without needing to see, already knowing where he was supposed to be.

Takashi stumbled a few more time in his haste, but he didn’t stop. He wasn’t about to let his pursuer catch up that easily. Not when the shrine was right there, almost within reach.

“Found you,” a voice playfully whispered in his ear. He was shoved to the ground inches away from the shrine that would have been his salvation. “Good at running away, aren’t you?” His hair was tugged, exposing his neck, and something sharp grazed his throat. “Just not good enough.”

Takashi squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable pain. It never came. Instead, he heard a sigh from his captor and the blade fell into grass, streaking it a pale pink. “You’re no fun at all,” he heard the man mutter. Then his head was slammed against the ground and the world went white.

* * *

“I told you to bring him _without_ using force, didn’t I?”

The familiarity of that voice eased the tension in Takashi’s bed-ridden form, even as he slowly regained consciousness. There was someone he knew here, someone he could trust.

“The damn brat almost made it to the shrine! What if he had awakened the great ayakashi that resides there?”

A dry, humorless laugh escaped the only one Takashi thought he could trust. And yet, that laugh made a shiver of doubt run down his spine. “That ayakashi is already under my control. There is nothing to fear from the fallen Natsume clan.”

_Fallen?_ Takashi didn’t want to remember. He wanted to keep sleeping. He would rather forget that he was the only one left, which was somehow more painful than simply following them into death. _How can I still be alive?_

“Leave me,” the familiar voice ordered. There was momentary reluctance as the other man complained, but the disobedience subsided when the first speaker asked softly, “Or would you prefer I show you the same hospitality that you showed our guest?”

“I’m going, I’m going!” The door slid open and then slammed closed, signaling the departure of the man Takashi suspected was his original captor.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten about me, Takashi-kun.” Something touched his cheek, pressing against his cuts, but it wasn’t painful – nothing like the ache in his chest. “It’s better this way, you know. Together, we can make the impossible happen.”

_Can we even bring back the dead?_ Takashi wanted to ask, but his voice was nowhere to be found. Only more useless tears fell from his closes eyes. He couldn’t do anything right! Not in the past, and certainly not when it counted. So why? Why was he still alive?

“I see. Still pretending to be asleep. Well then, I’ll let you get some rest if you truly wish for it.” The tears drying on his cheeks were brushed aside, replaced with the warmth of a hand. “Sweet dreams, Takashi-kun.”


	2. The Mask

If his captors thought he was going to wallow in despair, Takashi would have to disappoint them. They had kept him alive of their own accord. He could use this mistake to his advantage. Yes, he was scared. Terrified, actually, but there was still something he had to accomplish.

Somehow, he was going to get his hands on that charm. His grandmother had entrusted it to him and he wasn't going to ignore that responsibility.

The door and windows were locked, but someone had to check on him eventually. He only knew one spell for attacking, and there was no guarantee it would work. Takashi had to make the most of that one chance.

Waiting was the worst part. He had to pretend to be sleeping for his plan to have any chance at success. Then, as the door to his room finally opened, he made his move. The incantation was short and fell from his lips easily, but it wasn't strong enough for anything more than a momentary distraction. Objects around the room fell and clattered to the floor, making the figure in the doorway startle and flinch back - and that was the opening Takashi was looking for to begin with.

He pushed the person aside and darted out the door, running as fast as he could down the dark hallway. It kept going and going. Never-ending, it felt like. By the time he realized he was caught in another trap, it was too late to do much more than sink to his knees, exhausted and confused. He struggled to catch his breath as he waited, heart growing heavier by the second. Escape was a fleeting dream. His captor was taunting him with it.

Footsteps, quick and deliberate, caught up to him. "That was a most amusing attempt, Takashi-kun. Now, let's not try that again, shall we?" Fingers threaded in his hair, smoothing out his bed hair like his mother did every morning - and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to shut out the memories, the pain, everything he possibly could. "You're awfully quiet. I don't believe you've ever been this silent in my presence, but it's understandable." Takashi felt his head being tilted back and let it happen, wanting to catch a glimpse of the person that had taken everything from him. The person that sounded so familiar and yet instilled fear into his very being. "We've been apart far too long. My, how I've missed you."

Takashi flinched and instinctively tried to pull away. He didn't get very far. "Matoba-san," he acknowledged, barely above a whisper, "what is the meaning of this?"

"To explain your situation to its fullest … well, I guess I'd call you a prisoner of war. You do know what that means, don't you, Takashi-kun?"

The condescending smile drove Takashi to reply, despite not knowing, "I know what the word prisoner means. And I refuse to be yours!" Succeeding at pulling away this time, Takashi stood and faced the older boy head-on, refusing to remain on his knees any longer. "Release me at once or -" He swallowed thickly when he realized there was no one waiting for him at home. There was no longer anyone to care, to look forward to seeing him. There was no place to go back to.

"Or what?" prompted the young Matoba heir, raising an eyebrow entreatingly. "Is there somewhere you want to go, Takashi-kun? Why, you need only say the word and I will allow it." Takashi immediately thought of the shrine and getting there, but Matoba's next words chilled him to the bone. "With me for company, of course. Make no mistake, you are my prisoner and you will _always_ be my prisoner."

Matoba reached out and grabbed his arms in a faux gentle motion, belied by the strength he asserted as he dragged Takashi closer. "We will go over rules later. For now, I wonder how I should punish you for this reckless attempt." A wicked gleam entered the older boy's uncovered eye, while the other remained hidden behind a charm Takashi hadn't seen before. "Yes, I know. Tomorrow, at noon - I'll have you pledge your life to mine. In front of everyone. There will be no escape then."

Fury threatened to overtake Takashi in that moment, but he didn't let it. He couldn't let something like that cloud his judgment when it was _this_ person he was facing. To let his guard down would mean to submit. He refused to allow Matoba the victory. "If you believe the punishment fits the crime," Takashi managed, stiffly.

"I do," stated Matoba, and his smile was almost genuine when he said, "I care about you, and I will never intentionally hurt you."

Takashi heard the double meaning behind those words and tensed; the reality of his situation still too raw, too fresh in his mind to accept. _I may never hurt you,_ Matoba was saying, _but that doesn't mean I won't hurt those around you._ "I-I want to go back to my room." He looked away from Matoba's dark, searching gaze, cursing how his words were stilted and wanting nothing more than to hide away.

"For you, anything." Matoba interlaced their fingers and led Takashi out of the illusion he had been trapped in. The illusion that he had any hope of leaving this place.

* * *

Left alone, Takashi sat on his bed, restless and unable to sleep. It was early morning by now and he was tired, but sleep would not find him. His mind kept replying memories he wanted to avoid. He remembered his first encounter with Matoba Seiji. He remembered all the encounters that followed. Still, something was missing.

It didn't make sense. Why would Matoba keep him alive? What was there to gain? If anything, the past was more reason for Matoba to get rid of him. They had done nothing but argue from the moment they were introduced.

_His parents smiled as they pushed the two boys closer together. "Go on, Takashi, tell him a bit about yourself. Don't be shy."_

_Taking in the older boy's confident, reassuring smile somehow made Takashi even more reluctant to do what he was told. Stubbornly, he crossed his arms and looked away._

_The other boy didn't react as Takashi thought he would. Instead of getting angry, the boy teased him, "He must be very shy, indeed. My apologies for intruding."_

" _No, no. It's no trouble at all," assured Takashi's father. "At least say hello, Takashi!" The scolding made Takashi wince, but he didn't give in. There was something about the other child that made him want to run and hide._

_A sudden touch to his shoulder caused him to look over and see his mother's worried gaze. "What's wrong, Takashi? Seiji-kun came all this way to meet you. Don't you have something to say?"_

" _Okay," conceded Takashi. He turned his gaze back to the older boy and held out his hand. "I'm Natsume Takashi."_

_The other boy, Seiji, gripped his hand in welcome, dark eyes alive with mirth. "I am Matoba Seiji. My family seems to think I need friends my own age. So, here I am."_

_Letting go, Takashi quickly stepped back. "Ah, sorry. You wasted a trip. I don't need any more friends. I have plenty alrea -"_

" _Takashi!" his father cut him off, a warning edge to his voice. "That is not how you talk to a guest."_

" _Sorry," Takashi said again, but his eyes spoke differently, stubborn and set. "I'll go to my room."_

" _No. You'll be showing him around. He'll be here for a whole month and he needs someone to rely on. Try to be that someone." His father made it sound like a challenge, something Takashi definitely couldn't do - and that made Takashi want to prove him wrong. "You can start with the sakura room. Reiko-san needs a word with you anyway, Takashi."_

He still wasn't sure what had caused him to act that way upon a first meeting. Yes, there had been an uncomfortable feeling throughout the room - something he couldn't place - but he had never blatantly dismissed someone like that. His grandmother, however, had found the whole thing very funny and encouraged him to act out the entire month he had spent with Matoba Seiji.

Thinking back, that was the single most eventful month of his (relatively short) life.

" _I hate you!" Takashi screamed, cradling his bleeding hand closer to his body, tears falling from the pain. "Why did you do that!"_

_Slowly, the older boy stood. He dusted off his clothing and smiled, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "I was protecting you, of course."_

" _Y-You …" Words wouldn't come. In one way, he was in awe. Seiji was powerful, and he was no older than ten! But the horror of what the other boy had done far out-weighed any sort of respectable opinion Takashi could have formed._

" _Me?" prompted Seiji, raising his eyebrows entreatingly. "Yes, what about me, Takashi-kun?"_

" _How could you," Takashi spoke quietly, afraid his voice would crack. He kept his glistening eyes downcast, afraid such weakness would be used against him. "It wasn't going to hurt me, and yet … you … you …"_

" _I destroyed it," Seiji stated, a bit smug. "Ayakashi shouldn't touch humans."_

_A strangled sound left Takashi as he said, "You don't get to decide that!" It was the other boy's fault he had been bitten. If Seiji hadn't invoked a punishment incantation, nothing would have happened. The strange winged creature would have simply left, curiosity sated - if only Matoba Seiji hadn't been there._

_The older boy stepped closer and brushed a stray lock of Takashi's hair aside, an almost gentle look about him now. "No, it may not be up for me to decide. But don't worry, Takashi-kun. I'll change that."_

_Takashi slapped the hand away from his face with a shout of, "Don't touch me!" He was hurt and confused, blood dripping from his hand and leaving him completely out of sorts. Yet the young Matoba heir seemed perfectly at ease._

" _I apologize," dismissed Seiji as he took a polite step back. "I forgot how shy you are, after all."_

_Grinding his teeth together, Takashi didn't respond to the taunt. Instead, he turned his back on the other boy and left. Or tried to, anyway, because his grandmother was blocking the way and he nearly ran into her. "Obaa-chan, be careful!"_

" _My, my. Is that really something an injured person should be saying?" teased Reiko. "Here, show me your hand. I heard you screaming from all the way outside."_

_A blush spread across Takashi's cheeks, embarrassment sinking in. "S-Sorry."_

" _It's fine. I already told everyone to ignore it. It was just a big baby crying for attention. I can handle brats like you just fine!" Hanging his head in shame, Takashi held out his hand, hoping his grandmother would make quick work of it._

_She did. A faint glow emitted from her hands as she clasped Takashi's between them. When she pulled away, the bite was nothing more than a pink mark against his skin, a faint reminder of what had occurred. Still, the blood was gone and that was all that mattered. Takashi didn't like blood._

" _There. Happy, brat?" His grandmother ruffled his hair affectionately. Then there was a sharp yank and Takashi whimpered in realization. "Compensation," dismissed Reiko as she held out a thin strand of hair. It was a pale silver in the sunlight streaming through the window, but on him, it was golden blonde. "Be more attentive, brat, or you'll lose more than a few strands of hair." She looked over his head as she spoke, staring in the direction of the young Matoba. "Now, return it. That which does not belong to you."_

_Takashi turned in time to see a similar strand of hair being held up to the light. The dissatisfied frown on Seiji's face wasn't something he had seen before, so he stared, trying to figure out what was going on._

" _I am not allowed a reward, but you are?" Seiji stated blandly, the frown lingering at the edges of his lips. "That's not fair. I saved his life."  
_

_Reiko snorted, hardly lady-like, and snatched the strand of hair the boy was holding. "Takashi doesn't need anyone to save him. The brat's more powerful than you'll ever be."_

_Seiji bristled, Takashi protested, and Reiko simply grinned._

Takashi really wished his grandmother was here to encourage him like that again. But he had to wonder, where was all that power she had mentioned? It wasn't helping him any from within a locked cage, and to be perfectly honest, he doubted he had that kind of power.

The door slid open, interrupting his thoughts. "I see you're not pretending to be asleep this time. Well then, follow me. You'll need a bath and fresh clothes before the ceremony begins."

It was the woman who had attempted to check on him last night, the one he had startled. She was an older woman, around his grandmother's age most likely, with graying brown hair tied in a stern knot. At first glance, she appeared the strict, matronly figure that most children feared, but there was something about her that made it easier to calm down. Because, unlike her young master, her actions seemed more genuine.

"Come along," she ordered, and Takashi followed. It was best not to try anything until he knew the place better, he reasoned. And he had already caused trouble for this woman once; he had no need to do it again.

* * *

The hallway was long, stretching on forever it felt like, and no amount of counting the cracks in the floor could make it go by any faster. The woman leading him along was taking her time, one of her hands drifting over the wall closer to her as they walked. Curious, Takashi placed one of his own hands on the wall, and then frowned, feeling the rough texture of the wall. It was out of sorts with its smooth appearance. Another illusion, he guessed, but why hide something so simple? Unless, Takashi began to muse, the wall was used like a blind person reading a book, and the bumps on the wall were like a map. Not that Takashi knew how to read this particular map and his hand fell back to his side, listless once more.

He continued to follow the woman in front of him, each step heavier and leaden with unease, until they reached a part of the hallway that caught her attention. Takashi watched as she spoke under her breath, reciting something, and then his eyes were drawn to the elaborate door that appeared in front of them. A house of tricks and lies, which would have fascinated him if he wasn't trapped inside of it.

"Go on, open it," the woman instructed, pushing him toward the door. "If you need anything, you need only speak aloud."

"And you'll hear me?" asked Takashi warily.

"No. The young master will," she spoke curtly, as if in distaste. That said, she turned and abruptly walked away.

With very little free will at his disposal, Takashi did as he was told and opened the door. The bathing area was large, and possibly more extravagant than it had any right to be, which left Takashi feeling rather small once the door was shut. He took his time bathing, washing at his skin with more vigor than usual, wanting to wash away everything. It didn't work. When he was done, he was still here, still a prisoner, and unable to figure out Matoba's intentions.

The clothes laid out for him were as elaborate as everything else he had encountered here. The yukata was pure white, but the sakura petals decorating it were trimmed in gold. It looked like something a girl would wear and Takashi balked at the idea of wearing it. Matoba was surely teasing him. Forgoing the necessity of clean clothes, he redressed in the ones he had been wearing before.

The old woman was waiting for him to come back and tsked when she saw he hadn't changed, still wearing the traditional clothes of his clan: white robes with sashes of red. He vaguely wondered if Matoba had chosen the yukata knowing he wouldn't have wanted something radically different from what he was used to wearing. Regardless, he wasn't comfortable wearing it. Not because it looked girly but because it came too close to accepting the generosity of his captor. He didn't want or need anything Matoba could give him. Not unless it was his freedom.

As he went to walk out, the woman grabbed his wrist and dragged him back inside before he could get very far. Takashi was about to protest, but she placed a hand over his mouth and said, "Don't speak. Not a word." With the door shut, she went to retrieve the maple leaf yukata and appraised him from head to toe when she came back. "Well then, the easy way or my way?"

Takashi quietly disrobed. From experience, he knew women could be quite fearsome when playing dress-up.

* * *

"You look wonderful," complimented Matoba once Takashi had been led to a new room, most likely Matoba's own room. It looked well-lived in, at any rate. Books and scrolls lay spread out on the desk, while paper charms were haphazardly thrown on the floor, crumpled and forlorn, as if trash. It was obvious the older boy had been studying before their interruption.

Takashi picked up one of the charms meant for sealing and flipped it over. The ink had bled through and the symbols were now flipped. With a hesitant smile, Takashi advised, "Be more careful, Matoba-san. You wouldn't want something nasty to appear, would you?" He handed the paper back to its creator, who tore it to pieces without a moment's pause.

"Is everything ready?" Matoba was addressing the woman who had been escorting him now, so Takashi let his gaze wonder back to the charms. Was the other boy trying to seal something away? "It's nearly time."

"Yes," the elderly woman answered, "and the guests have arrived too. You should be on your way to greet them."

"I suppose," drawled the dark haired boy. Then his gaze switched back to Takashi. "I have some last minute preparations to make, though. Would it trouble you to greet them in my stead, Nanase?"

Nanase sighed deeply, but she did not argue. "There isn't much time left," she reminded. Then, with a bow, she took her leave.

Once the door had been slid shut, a _clack_ ringing in the air, Matoba stepped forward and grabbed one Takashi's hands. The grip was nearly painful, but Takashi met the one-eyed gaze of his captor and held it, silently challenging the older boy. Nails scrapped his palm and Takashi flinched. His gaze quickly dropped to the floor when he could no longer bear the mocking smirk.

"I have something to tell you," Matoba spoke calmly, but there was a hidden eagerness that had no right to be there. "You see, this ceremony is a bit different from two _exorcists_ pledging loyalty to each other. That kind of thing can be broken, torn to pieces like garbage." Takashi bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, a thin line of red trailing down his lowered chin. His captor tilted his face upwards and wiped the blood away. "No, I want our bond to much, much stronger than that." The grip on his wrist and chin tightened, locking him into place. "You are twelve now, aren't you?" Slowly, Takashi nodded his head, fear keeping his throat too dry to speak.

With a disappointed little sigh, like he expected the answer to be something different, Matoba released his wrist and brought his other hand up, trailing the edge of his thumb along the healing scab on Takashi's lip. "Well, what I have in mind will clear all obstacles," whispered Matoba, uncomfortably close.

Stumbling backwards, an angry red straining his cheeks, Takashi bit out, "Don't touch me!"

Matoba simply muffled a laugh into the fabric of his black yukata. "I'm sorry, Takashi-kun; but you no longer have any say in the matter."

* * *

"Wear this," directed Nanase when they reached the ceremony hall.

Wordlessly, Takashi took the strange mask held out to him and pulled it on. It was dark blue and in the shape of a dog's face, which probably meant something important but he was too numb to care at this point. Matoba had made it clear that keeping him alive had been no mistake. This had been planned too carefully for that.

"It's crooked." Matoba smoothly reached over and fixed the mask to look presentable, intentionally brushing against the crook of Takashi's neck. The boy looked away. "Don't be like that. I haven't done anything to you."

Takashi stiffened in anger. Hadn't done anything? Killing his family, his friends, everyone he loved - what was that, then?

Nanase interrupted before anything more could be said, ushering them into a spacious, high-ceiling room that could hold a great number of people. A room used by the Matoba Clan to complete summonings and the like. A place to show-off their skills and reinforce how powerful they were. Takashi kept his head down, led along by the gentle pressure that Nanase exerted on the small of his back. There were so many people here to bear witness to his shame.

At the staged podium stood a tall, aloof looking man with glasses that had no smile to spare to a nervous boy in a mask, so Takashi kept staring at his bare feet wondering when the cold would turn them blue. A black sleeve swayed into his vision and Matoba grabbed one of his hands again, raising it high.

"I stand before my clan today to acknowledge an ayakashi that has asked me for protection." Confused, Takashi looked left and then right – and then straight up, directly into Matoba's single good eye. The reality of the situation crashed into him and dread curled around his heart like a snake seizing its prey. He couldn't move, his eyes wide and the majority of his shock hidden behind the mask. Matoba took full advantage of the situation by pulling him closer.

A silver knife cut into his palm without his consent and blood welled quickly to the surface. Matoba bit his own thumb and pressed it against the blood of his 'ayakashi' – a ceremony Takashi had seen performed many a time. Jerking his hand away, he hissed at the foreign feeling of another's blood congealing with his own. Matoba had just _claimed_ him and that was against so many laws that it made his head hurt. This was a farce! All of it! His voice broke as he said, "Y-You ca - "

"Speak a little louder, dear one, I can't hear you …" The bold smile on Matoba's face spoke otherwise. "Recite your line or this won't end well."

Refusal wasn't an option, he knew. No ayakashi, once claimed, had the right to refuse.

But there was usually a contract agreed to beforehand and the binding ceremony was meant to hold both parties true to their word. Never had a contract been established with another _human_. It wasn't that easy, and could kill the recipient if their levels of power were too different.

An intense burning started from his palm and spread further up his arm like venom. He gasped and choked out, "Allow me to abide by the contract."

"You forgot something," warned Matoba, a frown tugging at his lips.

Takashi repeated the same phrase. Only this time in the language of the ayakashi. Matoba looked mildly impressed.

"Not quite." Matoba was surely mocking him.

The pain invoked by the other's blood drove him to his knees. And, his head still bowed, he somehow managed to say, "Master."


End file.
